


We Only Exist In My Dreams

by creatures_of_habit



Category: The Raven Boys, Trc - Fandom, bllb, blue lily lily blue, rovinsky - Fandom, tdt, the dream thieves, the raven cycle, trb - Fandom
Genre: M/M, the truth about K's death, white mitsubishi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatures_of_habit/pseuds/creatures_of_habit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before him was a white hell. Not hell a place, hell a thing, because before him was the striking white form of a Mitsubishi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Only Exist In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Holy gosh i just read though this again a couple of years later and..? i don't even like cars or drugs or guys the fuck was i doing ????

Ronan awoke into the dream with his eyes closed and his fists clenched. He paused like that for a moment, letting the fresh scent of cabeswater solidify in his mind. But when he opened his eyes it was not the sunny forest scene he had expected. Instead, Ronan was in the midst of a black storm, and from the seed of his surroundings, sounds seemed to grow. The roar of thunder preceding a brilliant flash of lightening. The screaching of midnight birds. The hollow sound of rain on the bare earth. The silent judgement of the moon. The ground was wet and pliable, soft under foot. (Where were Ronan's shoes?) Rain ran down his smooth shaven head and came to rest at the neck of his tank top. There was a certain wildness about the scene, but without the fear. Ronan closed his eyes again, trying to premeditate the dream, form it around him, but the dream was not soft like the ground, it was hard and unchangable, as if this was meant to happen. So Ronan couldn't help it when the field around him transformed, all signs of rain dissipating in the unexpected sunlight. Before him was a white hell. Not hell a place, hell a thing, because before him was the striking white form of a Mitsubishi.  
Ronan leaned over the hood of the car, touching the familiar metal. Distant, drug induced memories bled through his mind and all of them screamed Kavinsky.  
And in that position, he felt the ghost of a touch, trailing the path of his tattoo. The calloused fingers travelled down his neck to the brim of his top, where it stopped, only to reemerge by his waist, where the hands began to work the (damp from the storm) fabric over his head. Ronan lifted his arms to take it off himself, and turned his body to meet Kavinsky's.  
Everything was electic around them, as K pressed his entire weight on to Ronan. Everything was just a fraction too real, making Ronan throb with a pain that said it wasn't. Or maybe that was desire. Ronan stretched up under Kavinsky's body, chest to chest, to connect their lips. it was a crazy mash of teeth and tounge and release, they were finally here, and Ronan could almost forget that it wasn't real. Ronan tilted his head to the side and then let Kavinsky pry his lips apart with his tounge. Ronan felt his whole body tingling under the touch of their lips. Ronan bit playfully at K's bottom lip, toying with his senses. Both boys body's were taunght against the others, yearning for more touch yet unable to move away from each other to get there. All Ronan could taste and smell was Kavinsky: sweat and stale alcohol. The kiss slowed, began to grow in passion.  
Kavinsky finally pulled away only to grunt out, "well fucking nice to see you too, princess." To which Ronan replied only in the rough kisses and teasing bites he laced on K's neck.  
"It would be really fucking great to see you if I didn't already know that you are not real," he hissed.  
"This isn't a holiday, K, YOU ARE DEAD, never to be seen again, caput!" But his body betrayed him, sending emotional quivers through his body. Kavinsky just smiled. That sick, horrible smile he had worn on the night of his own death.  
"Dying's a boring side effect." The smirk in his voice was both venom and screaming pheromones, a deadly concoction.  
"Besides," he said, flicking his wrist nonchalantly, "I was no more alive then than I am now." Ronan protested, "yeah I get it, your life sucked, you fucked shit up and did drugs, whatever, just leave me alone." Which coached a laugh out of K.  
"Aww sweety, of coarse I still do drugs." He grunted with a sarcastic laugh. "Take me with you, princess," K said, stealing the thought from Ronan's head, "we can do this all day and into the night." But the scene was wrong, everything was wrong. The landscape began to melt around them and Ronan was finding it hard to concentrate. The car was slowly and painfully transforming into the familiar form of his bed, and he didn't want to go.  
"It wouldnt be real." He said, and even though it hurt, it was the truth. "You wouldn't be real," and he felt the hot buildup of tears in his eyes, and Kavinsky became even more distorted.  
"Fuck you, Lynch, you know you need me, I'm exactly what you want." But his voice was garbled and the dream sky was too dark. Kavinsky took a deep breath.  
"You say you never lie, but you do, you lie to yourself all the time.  
"Ronan, I was never real."


End file.
